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About Paris

But here’s the kicker—makes me happy, sorta. Roxy’s got a rep. Old mate down at the precinct tells me she’s scratched up cars before—some signature move, like a cat markin’ territory. Surprised me, coz who knew prossies had style? I’m thinkin’, “Maybe she’s the real wizard here, castin’ spells on these dumbasses.” Exaggeratin’? Sure, but imagine her cacklin’, “You shall not pass… without payin’!”

Then, I’m walking back, and I see this street performer on Rue de l'Isle. He’s shredding on a guitar, and I’m like, “Man, I gotta step up my game!” I stop to watch, and he’s got this crowd vibin’. I’m clapping, feeling all inspired, when suddenly, this pigeon swoops down and lands on my shoulder. I freaked out! Like, “Get off me, dude!” Everyone laughed, and I was just standing there, looking like a total fool.

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